Short Stories 1 - We Have No Use For Them

I sat behind the counter, fiddling with the stationery. Ms. Leene sat beside me, papers of the day meticulously folded into a neat square in front of her. She barely made a sound as the papers rustled under her thin fingers.

Barely 3 hours into my temp job here, already I felt I couldn't breathe. It... it was the patients. They would come in sullen, morose, crestfallen, holding a grubby little slip in their hands - their appointment cards. I would tick them off the list (subject to Ms. Leene's approval) and then send them in to the doctor's.

And when they left, they all had the same blank, peaceful, idiotic expression. That was the worst part. Patients are supposed to leave better, not... different.

The checklist of questions was printed out and tacked in front of me. Ms. Leene was very particular about this. "Ask every question there, and be sure you get their answers. Only when you're satisfied then do they sign their forms and go on in. Understand?"

I understood, of course. We had to make sure the patients knew what they were in for, what they were asking for. People who didn't fully understand the procedure tended to get lawsuit-happy afterwards. It's no small deal, you know, having your memory erased.

Swish! went the glass doors as they slid open to present the latest patient. Barely 3 hours here, and we just received our 17th… and 18th patients.

She had her head bowed, standing one significant step behind the man. I couldn’t see her face, what with the hastily-set shawl over her head, but I didn’t really need to look closer to know she couldn’t be smiling underneath.

He stood at the doorway, looking down at his slip again, then up at the clinic’s logo. A man of average stature, he looked not a day beyond 25. But his hands were trembling, his eyes were bleary, his stubble poking up defiantly like spilt ash on pristine silk. Oh, this one had it bad.

They walked over to the counter with surprising resolve, and he wordlessly passed me his slip. After checking it against the records, I flicked the switch to turn on the hidden cameras that would record our ensuing exchange, and began the standard spiel Ms. Leene had instructed me in.

“Good day, thank you for choosing our memory clinic. Now this card indicates that both of you are slated for an appointment, but before you go in, just some formalities, if you please. First, are both of you sure that…”

Ms. Leene pushed aside her papers, leaned forward, and turned the cameras off. “It’s ok,” she said, “the doctor is ready to see you. You may enter together, if you wish.”

They might have been emotionally distraught, but they could still recognize authority when they saw it. They nodded, as one, and shuffled into the doctor’s room. From where I sat, I could hear the doctor warmly, cheerfully greet them, in a tone that was strangely antiseptic and human at the same time.

I opened my mouth, trying to frame my question in the most respectful of ways. After administering 16 painfully detailed interviews, listening to Ms. Leene rebuke me over and over for any mistakes I made, hearing her emphasize how important formalities and protecting our asses were, she actually did something like this?

The whirring sounds began to seep out from the doctor’s room. It had already begun. I wondered who was undergoing the treatment first, him or her?

“It’s ok, I know what you’re going to ask.”

“No, mam, with respect, it’s not ok. You just spent the whole morning telling me we had a job to do, that we had to watch out for them too. That we had to be sure they wanted it too. What if they didn’t want the procedure?”

Ms. Leene returned to her papers, hardly seeming to notice as my angry accusations rolled off her.

“Oh come on now. I’ve heard their stories many times, and frankly, I have no idea how they can get their memories wiped clean, leave this clinic as strangers, and yet somehow fall in and then out of love again within months. Some people should just stay away from each other! I’m not going to listen to their tragic story yet again, not on my last day here.

That’s their fourth time here, together, you know.”




*Note*: Yes, this is a rip-off of Eternal Sunshine, but I like to think of it as a tribute instead.